


Caught Between a Dead Man and the World's End

by Cowardly_Cabbage



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Gen, I want to explore that, and how did Will's ear get pierced, because like, how did Barbossa go from villain to weird uncle, me explaining what happened between dead man's chest and at world's end, we're gonna find out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-04-30 00:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cowardly_Cabbage/pseuds/Cowardly_Cabbage
Summary: Takes place literally the moment that the second movie ends, and will go all the way until the third movie begins. A lot changed between Tia Dalma's shack and the shores of Singapore. Will and Elizabeth, angry at each other as they may be, have to share a ship, and make peace with Barbossa. Barbossa decides to teach Elizabeth how to be a pirate, and Elizabeth goes along with it to make Will angry. Meanwhile Tia Dalma has her own agenda, Gibbs, Marty, and Cotton just want to rescue Jack, and Pintel and Righetti will die before they admit their feelings.





	1. A Rough Night

**Author's Note:**

> My take of what happened between the second and third movies because, well, the relationships between the characters are so different, I've always wondered what went down.

“So tell me, what’s become of my ship?”

For a moment no one spoke, and the only sound to be heard was the creaking of the wooden shack around them. It was as if the whole room was holding its breath, staring unblinkingly at this apparition of a man who they all thought to be dead. Who was certainly dead. Who couldn’t possibly be alive and eating an apple in front of them as though nothing had ever happened. Who had been shot in the heart and left to die on a sunken island. All of the gathered company (except Tia Dalma, of course) took a subconscious step back. In the cases of Pintel and Righetti, it was two steps; one backwards and one towards each other. 

It was Gibbs who broke the silence. “Mary, mother of God,” He breathed in a low voice, almost a whisper. 

“The curse was broken,” Will said slowly. “How did you survive?”

“I didn’t, you see,” Barbossa replied with a smile, descending the last few steps. “I was dead as can be, ‘til this fine woman saw fit to bring me back.” Tia Dalma smiled and gave a small curtsey as acknowledgement. 

“Why would she do that?” Righetti asked, apparently more loudly than he intended, as he shrank back behind Pintel as soon as the words were out of his mouth.   
Elizabeth, who up until now had looked about ready to either throw up or faint, joined in. “To take us to Jack. Right?” She looked to Tia Dalma, who nodded. “You’ll captain a voyage to bring Jack back?”

“Aye, that be my purpose, Miss Swann,” Barbossa answered cordially.

Will charged forwards, putting himself between Barbossa and Elizabeth, only stopping when he was a foot away from the other man’s face. “If you think for a moment that any of us would agree to sail with you-” 

“And what have you against me?” Barbossa cut him off. 

“You’ve tried to kill everyone in this room!” Will cried. This was met with shrugs and nods of agreement from everyone around.

“You shot me,” Pintel added. “Right ‘ere!” He jabbed the spot in his shoulder to add a bit of emphasis to his point. 

“Aye, and everyone in this room has tried to kill me!” Barbossa countered.

The room erupted into argument. Will of course was still salty about Elizabeth being kidnapped, but Elizabeth insisted that she was able to defend herself and didn’t need him to do so for her. Gibbs and Marty advocated that rescuing Jack was top priority. Righetti pointed out that he and Pintel had never actually tried to kill Barbossa, and so he really shouldn’t be upset with them at all, Captain, we’ve always been loyal to you Captain, haven’t we, always-

“Water under the bridge!” Mr. Cotton’s parrot squawked so loudly that it silenced the rabble entirely. Mr. Cotton himself nodded in agreement. 

“The bird speaks true,” Tia Dalma said smoothly. “If you want any hope of fetchin’ Jack Sparrow from the Locker you’ll be needing him.”

Another silence fell over the room as they weighed this notion. 

“Aye,” Gibbs said, again being the one to break the silence. “Aye, if that’s what it takes.”

“Why should we rescue him?” Will asked. “He made the deal with Jones knowing that this was the cost.”

“Because he’s our friend!” Elizabeth spluttered.

Will rounded on her. “Is that all?”

“Not all, no,” Barbossa answered the question knowing full well that it wasn’t directed at him, but not caring in the slightest. “But I think story time ought to wait until the mornin’, don’t you? You little lovebirds have had a long day, and I reckon you’ll be needing some rest.”

“He’s right,” Tia Dalma agreed. “It’s no good to make such choices when this tired, so come, I have places for you all to spend the night.”

“How do we know he won’t kill us in our sleep?” Will jabbed a finger in Barbossa’s direction. 

“My house, my rules,” she snapped. “Nobody kills anybody, ‘les they haven’t fear of death in they hearts. Come, I’ll not say it again.”

The shack was much larger than it appeared from the outside, the surviving crew realized as Tia Dalma led them up the very same stairs that Barbossa had descended moments ago. At the top was a short hallway, with two doors on each side. 

Tia Dalma pointed to the closest door to them, right by the stairs. “This room is taken; the others are yours to choose.”

“There be but three rooms for,” Gibbs paused to count. “Seven-er, eight, includin’ Barbossa. What do you suppose we do?”

She glared at him. “Barbossa won’t be needin’ a room tonight, he has work to be done. As for the rest of you, I trust you can figure it out.” And with that, she spun on her heel and went back down the stairs. 

The third awkward silence of the evening hung in the air. This time, however, Pintel broke it. “I ain’t sharin’ no beds.” He declared loudly.

“Well I ain’t sleepin’ on no floors!” Righetti argued. 

“Gentlemen calm down,” Gibbs interrupted. “We can sort this out amiably.”

“Elizabeth needs her own room,” Will insisted.

She straightened herself up in offense. “I can argue for myself, thank you!”

“Boy’s right, Miss Elizabeth,” Gibbs agreed. “Wouldn’t be proper for you to share a room with any of us.”

“Can I take back what I said before about not sharin’ beds and all?” Pintel asked.

Elizabeth screwed up her face in disgust, but said nothing. 

“As a mat’er of fact you can, Master Pintel,” Gibbs answered. “You and Master Righetti can share a room.”

“But-”

“As for us,” Gibbs put one arm around Cotton’s shoulders and the other around Marty’s. “We’ll work things out in our room.”

“And what of me?” Will asked. 

Gibbs glanced between Will and Elizabeth. At this moment, he realized several things. Number one: these folk were much more committed to their ethics than he’d anticipated, and number two: there may have been more to their fighting earlier than just a couple’s squabble. He tried to think of a reasonable reply, but Righetti beat him to it. Minus the “reasonable” part.

“Ain’t you goin’ to be sharin’ with her?” Righetti said, clearly not having the same revelations that Mister Gibbs just had. 

Elizabeth took her chance and took three strides to the door next to the one Tia Dalma had pointed to, stopping with her hand on the knob. “I don’t see why not,” she replied, cocking up an eyebrow at Will in challenge as she opened the door. 

Never one to back down from a battle of manners, Will replied, “Of course, Miss Swann.” And followed her into the room, closing the door behind him.

“What the bloody hell is going on there?” Pintel asked, to no one in particular.

“Lover’s quarrel!” Mr. Cotton’s parrot squawked. 

“He must mad to be fightin’ with the likes of her,” Gibbs shook his head. “Off to bed, the lot of you.”

Righetti and Pintel grumbled to themselves, but chose the room across from Will and Elizabeth’s without significant protestation. The remaining three entered the last empty room. 

*

As one would expect, it was sparsely furnished and poorly lit by just two lanterns hung on either side of a rickety looking bed that was topped with a straw mattress and threadbare blankets. There was dresser shoved in one corner that was missing its middle drawer, and the mirror atop it was so covered in filth that one could hardly make out their own shape in it. At the foot of the bed was a trunk about a foot wide and few more long. 

“Help me with that,” Marty walked to one end of the trunk. 

“What for?” Gibbs asked, but following suit to the opposite end. 

“I’m just doing what I know you was thinkin’ before you said it,” Marty answered. “But I ain’t sleepin’ by you lots’ smelly feet.”

“Aye,” Gibbs understood, and helped Marty lift the trunk and move it against the opposite wall. As they dropped it, Gibbs’s hand caught the unlocked lid by accident, and he suddenly found himself holding the trunk open to reveal-

“Dresses?” Marty picked one up tentatively, a heavy gown of deep blue covered in a thick layer of dust. 

“Pretty pretty,” Cotton’s parrot squawked. 

“May come in handy. As a blanket,” Gibbs added hastily when Marty gave him a befuddled and somewhat concerned look. 

Marty dragged out the dress in his hand and Gibbs closed the lid behind it. Marty laid the garment over the top of the trunk and climbed on top of it, making himself comfortable in the folds of soft fabric. “Aye,” he mused. “That’ll do for me.”

“And what of us Mr-” Gibbs turned to find that Cotton had already laid down on the bed, body straight and hands folded over his stomach, the extinguished lantern next to him still trailing smoke. His eyes were closed and his breathing steady, like he was already asleep. His bird had perched on the headboard and tucked its head under its wing. “Alright, then,” Gibbs sighed to himself. Cotton was all the way on one side of the bed, so Gibbs lay down on the other side, tugging the thin wool blanket over himself. He looked at the flame flickering behind the glass of the lantern and thought of Jack, whispering to himself, “Into your hands, O Lord we entrust our brother…” He trailed off as he realized he’d forgotten the rest. He blew out the light and prayed for sleep.

*

On the other side of the wall, in a nearly identical room, Pintel and Righetti were bickering.

“Me back is shot, you know,” Righetti said. “Sleepin’ on the floor is like to make it worse.”

“Your back ain’t shot, my chest is shot!” Pintel argued. 

“I ain’t mean shot like with a gun, I mean shot like,” Righetti tried to think of how to describe it, but couldn’t find the words. “It hurts, alright? I’m needin’ the bed!” 

“Why don’t you just string up one o them sheets to make like what we had on the Pearl?” 

“From what? There ain’t beams comin’ out the walls here! Why don’t we just-” 

“I ain’t sharin’ no bed!”

“We shared in jail!”

“There weren’t no other options in jail!”

“Well there ain’t no other options here!”

Pintel opened his mouth to argue, but found that he didn’t have a good response for that. He snapped his mouth shut again in frustration. “Fine,” he managed finally. “But don’t be comin’ onto my side o’ the bed.”

“Thank you for bein’ reasonable. For once,” Righetti added quietly to himself.

“What?”

“Just rememberin’ to take out me eye,” Righetti covered, starting to work it out with his finger. 

Pintel snickered “Remember that night you forgot?” 

“I thought it’d never move again,” Righetti shuddered at the memory.

“Twigg had to work it out with a knife.”

“He only stabbed me ten times while doin’ it.” 

“Aye, them’s was the days,” Pintel’s laughter faded as they both sank into the memories of that time in their life. Or rather, un-life, as the case was. Righetti succeeded in getting his eye out, and blew out the lantern so he could place his eye there for safe-keeping. Pintel blew out the lantern on his side as well. If anyone deigned to ask them about that night, each would accuse the other of trying to steal the blankets, and would tell of how they’d had to cling onto the very edges of the fabric to keep it over themselves. Truth of the matter was that they’d simply rolled to the very edges of the bed, and the blanket was stretched between them. 

*

Will and Elizabeth stared at each other for a long while. Each had a million things to say, but neither could find the words, and both were too proud to ask why the other was so angry. Without a word, Will shucked his boots and coat off, rolling the coat into a ball before laying down at the foot of the bed and placing it under his head like a pillow. He faced the door, and his back was against the trunk that served as a footlocker in each room. He did not do this on accident. 

Elizabeth, not to be outdone, stepped around him to sit on the edge of the bed. She loosed her hair and pulled off her borrowed boots. In order to make the sailor’s shoes fit her, she’d torn long strips of sail-cloth and wrapped them around her feet, effectively making very thick stockings. It worked, and the boots stopped slipping, but it hurt her feet something awful, and taking those wraps off felt similar to finally unlacing a corset at the end of the day. 

Down to just her shirt and trousers, with everything else folded and placed on the bedside table, Elizabeth blew out one lantern and was about to blow out the other when she stopped and noticed Will’s boots in the corner of her eye, sticking out from behind the trunk. Sighing, she unfolded her coat and laid it over him, then tucked herself between the rough mattress and the itchy blanket without dousing the other lamp. Will pulled the coat tighter around himself.

It smelled both like and not like Elizabeth. In a way, it was both the woman she was and the woman she had become. It smelled of the salted sea and burnt gunpowder, with only hints of the sweet scents he’d become accustomed to expect from her. William thought it was sad that in order to be free she had to be someone else. Someone besides the woman he’d spent his life in love with. More troubling, he wondered whether he could love this new Elizabeth the same way. 

*

Downstairs, Barbossa and Tia Dalma were having a drink, sat across from each other at her rickety old table.

“You’re certain there ain’t no other way?” Barbossa was asking.

“If there was, I’d be tellin’ you,” Tia Dalma replied. “Singapore is the only place left.”

“You are, of course, aware of Sao Feng’s… feelings, shall we say, towards Jack?”

“Are they so different from your own?”

“No, I suppose not,” Barbossa conceded with a sip of Tia Dalma’s not-so-famous homemade spiced rum. “You’ll be coming along, I suppose?” He asked it casually, not looking her in the eye.

“What’s it matter?” Tia Dalma smiled coyly. “You worried I might change me mind?”

Barbossa narrowed his eyes at his cup. “Not in quite so many words.”

“You’ve nothin’ to be fearin’ from me. Unless,” she leaned forward, and her voice dropped deadly low. “You been havin’ intention of going back on your word.”

“Not a chance, milady,” Barbossa replied with a hollow smile, his gaze finally flickering up to meet hers.

Tia Dalma leaned back to how she’d been seated before. “Then I’ll be comin’ along to make sure everything goes to plan. Even if you made it to Singapore, without me, how would you know what to be lookin’ for?”

“What exactly is it we’re looking for?”

Tia Dalma smiled, and told him. 

*

Late in the night, long after one of Gibbs’s prayers had been answered and Pintel and Righetti had both rolled to the center of the bed in their sleep, something awoke Will. At first he couldn’t figure out what. He sat up on the floor, shaking off Elizabeth’s jacket. The door was still shut, and there was no one in the room. All was quiet except- there was a sound behind him. Muffled, but definite. 

He stood and circled around the bed to the side with the lantern still lit, and what he saw broke his heart. Elizabeth, entrapped in some kind of nightmare, her face buried in her pillow but her whimpers of fear still escaping. Sweat slicked her hair to the side of her face as her body curled up defensively from some unseen foe.   
“Elizabeth,” he said softly, reaching out to shake her awake. The moment his fingers brushed her shoulder, her eyes flew open in blind terror. A dagger appeared from beneath her pillow and she lunged at Will with all her strength. “Elizabeth it’s me, it’s me!” He caught her wrists and held her at bay until he saw sense return to her face. 

“Will?” She asked, her voice quavering as the knife fell from her hand and clattered to the floor. “Will is that you?” The light was behind him, and she could hardly make out his features. In the dark, he could just as easily have been that figure from her dream. That skeletal man who’s name she daren’t even think for fear of the guilt consuming her. His accusing eyes as he fell upon her with a blade in each hand, ready to-

“It’s me Elizabeth, it’s just me,” Will’s soft voice drew her back to reality from the dregs of the nightmare. He let her go and lowered his arms to his sides as she sat back on her heels in bed. “Are you alright?”

“Just a dream,” she mumbled. “Just a bad dream.” Will turned to go, but Elizabeth caught his hand. “Don’t,” was all she said. 

Will turned back to her, allowing her to pull him to the edge of the bed. “Elizabeth-” He began to protest. 

“Please,” she begged. “Stay with me. I don’t-” Her voice broke. “I can’t be alone right now. You can hate me in the morning if you have to, but stay with me now.”

One look at the fear and desperation in her eyes and all of Will’s steely resolve crumbled, and not all the king’s horses or all the king’s men could put it back together again. Elizabeth pulled him down to her level and kissed him. It was sad, desperate kiss, as though in that moment she believed that it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart, and Will couldn’t bear to break it off for fear that she might be right. With just one hand on the lapel of his shirt, she dragged him into bed. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. Angry as he was, Will couldn’t bear to see her hurt. Elizabeth’s senses returned to her along with the memories of the day, and she broke off the kiss as sobs wracked her body. Will pulled her closer as she cried silently into his chest, holding firm as she shuddered and trembled beside him. 

“Stay with me,” she whispered. 

“I will,” he replied, kissing the top of her head. 

They fell into deep, untroubled sleep like that. The last thing Will remembered thinking was thinking was that no, he could not love her the same way he always had. Too much had changed, and they were too different now to hope that their engagement could ever be the same. But, perhaps, he could still love her, and hope for the same in return. One day.


	2. Setting Sail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew gathers together to set a plan, and Tia Dalma finds them a ship.

The next morning was… strange, for everyone. Well, everyone except for Barbossa and Tia Dalma, of course, who had sat up most of the night discussing what was to come. Pintel and Righetti came to and immediately started arguing, each accusing the other of hogging the blanket and being weird in their sleep. The commotion woke Gibbs, who, true to form, pulled a knife from under the pillow out of sheer surprise. But all he saw was Mr. Cotton, sitting by the window stroking his parrot’s wings. Marty was still curled up in his make-shift bed on the footlocker. Joshamee Gibbs was safe, but Jack was still dead.  
Will had been up since just after sunrise. He always was. After working the long days at the forge for so long, his body rose with the sun like clockwork. He’d quietly disentangled himself from Elizabeth, put his boots and coat back on, and was prepared to leave, to go downstairs and see what Barbossa was up to, when he stopped at the door. Rare was the chance to see Elizabeth sleep, and she looked so peaceful now. No sign of the distress that had woken them in the night remained on her face. More than anything, Will wanted to sit on the edge of the bed and just be with her, maybe stroke her hair. Her brown curls were beginning to turn golden from so much time under the sun. Then, like the morning after the Black Pearl first attacked Port Royal, he remembered everything that had happened, why he was where he was, and who had caused it.  
Will left, making hardly more noise than the creaking of the floorboards and the click of the door behind him. Gibbs, as it happened, was also leaving his room at the same time. They made an uncomfortable eye contact, neither wanting to speak but both having a lot to say.  
“Shall we?” Will said finally, gesturing towards the stairs.  
“Aye,” Gibbs replied, following him down.  
********************************************************  
Elizabeth woke up alone. Unlike Will, she was a heavy sleeper, and known for sleeping long into the day if no one came to wake her. Like Will, however, she also felt as she did the morning after the Black Pearl first attacked Port Royal. She didn’t remember where she was or what had happened for a moment, then it all came rushing back and she had to hold back tears. Not of fear this time, but shame and guilt and horror. Shame that Will thought she’d betrayed him, guilt that she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth, and horror that she didn’t feel bad about what she’d done. She made the right decision, and she knew it. It was the only way to save what was left of the crew and no one else was going to do it so she made the judgment call. And you know what? She’d been right.  
But she’d killed a man. (Well, technically she’d only left him to his death, and it was the Kraken that actually killed him, but still.) So why didn’t she feel bad? Killing is bad, and only bad people killed. That’s what Elizabeth had been taught her whole life. Now… now everything was all twisted. She shook those thoughts away, pulling on her boots and her coat. There was a dusty mirror on the wall that Elizabeth tried to make out her reflection in, but to no avail. She ran her fingers through her hair and hoped for the best.  
As Elizabeth emerged from her room, she heard a commotion.  
“I’m tellin’ you I ain’t-” Pintel stopped shoving Righetti long enough to notice her. “’Ello poppet- er, Miss Swann.” He corrected himself after Righetti gave him an elbow to the ribs.  
Elizabeth smiled despite herself. “Bit late for manners, wouldn’t you say?”  
“Ain’t never too late to repent,” Righetti said. “Least that’s what the good book is sayin’.”  
She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve read the Bible?”  
“No, he ain’t, he just pretends,” Pintel interrupted.  
“Really?”  
“Well I used to!” Righetti protested. “Or at least when I done grown up in the church ‘n all I was hearin’ it, maybe not readin’ it…”  
“Perhaps one day I could teach you to read,” Elizabeth suggested.  
Righetti’s eye brightened. “You mean that?”  
Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the opening of the third door. Marty had woken up, and Cotton was with him.  
“Shouldn’t we… go find out what’s going on?” Marty asked tentatively.  
“Yes, yes I think so,” Elizabeth agreed. No one moved. They were all looking to her, Elizabeth realized. Why that was, she didn’t know, but if they wouldn’t move then she would. She headed down the stairs, and they fell into line behind her.  
*********************************************************  
Tia Dalma had prepared... well, some would call it breakfast. William Turner (the second) would not be one of those people. There were pickled eggs, which he’d gotten used to on the Pearl, so that wasn't so bad. What he wasn’t used to were the small blackened fish that he apparently was expected to eat whole. Tia Dalma and Barbossa were happily munching down on them when he arrived, and Gibbs begrudgingly partook, giving Will a look that seemed to say “it’d be rude not to”. So Will choked them down, washing them down with something that Tia called “coffee”. Barbossa explained that it was like tea, but with ground-up beans. It was bitter and foul and when Will spat his first sip out Tia Dalma and Barbossa roared with laughter. He continued to drink it out of sheer spite after that.  
The others arrived some time after that, after Will and tried and failed nigh on a dozen times to get anyone to tell him anything about what was going on. No sense in him repeating himself, Barbossa said. Many a maddening hour later, the whole motley crew was gathered around Tia Dalma’s rickety table, eating a fittingly motley breakfast, and Barbossa began the tale.  
“Years ago, there was a gatherin’ of sorts,” he began, with all the grandiose he could muster from the cramped room. “Some of ye know this already. ‘Twas what would come to be called The Brethren Court, made up o’ nine great pirate lords from all ‘round the world.”  
“And what makes someone a pirate lord?” Will asked with a roll of his eyes. “Being fouler than the average pirate?”  
Barbossa ignored the venom in his question. “Some gain the title with great deeds o’ piracy, but most of us happen across it by chance.”  
“Us?” Elizabeth echoed.  
“Aye, Miss Swann, I be one o’ them pirate lords myself,” he gave a little bow, as though he were humble. “And so was Jack. And there be the problem. See a pirate lord has somethin’ called a piece of eight that he’s meant to pass on ‘afore he dies, and Jack it seems did not.”  
“So we’re meant to risk our lives for some trinket?” Will asked.  
“It’s no trinket!” Gibbs snapped. “The pieces of eight are the only thing binding-!” He realized he was shouting, and lowered his voice. “They be all that’s binding the sea goddess Calypso to a human form.”  
“Point being,” Barbossa reclaimed his spotlight. “We need him back. If there’s one person who can outsmart Beckett, it’s Jack, and if there’s one thing what can strike fear into Davy Jones, it’s Calypso.”  
“So why Singapore?” Elizabeth asked in measured tone.  
“There be one o’ the nine, Cap’n Sao Feng,” Barbossa explained. “But more importantly, that’s where the charts are.”  
“What charts?”  
“Navigational charts,” Tia Dalma chimed in. “Unlike any other seen on this world. They take you places no other map will.”  
“Like the Locker?” Pintel said.  
“Or… Hell?” Righetti wondered aloud.  
“Aye,” Barbossa replied. “Not to mention that if we want any hope of makin’ there, let alone back, we’ll be needin’ more of a crew than what we’ve got here.”  
“And we’re to believe that this Sao Feng will just hand over his charts, along with a ship and crew?” Will snapped. “Anything else we’ll be asking of him?”  
“Master Turner, you’re mistaken,” Barbossa smiled. “We’ll be askin’ him only for the ship and the crew. The charts we’ll have to come by on our own.”  
Will rolled his eyes and shook his head.  
“There’s a tradin’ ship leavin’ the nearest port tonight,” Tia Dalma said. “It goes to Singapore, and will take passengers for fair price. If we leave before midday, we can make it there in time. After that will be too late.”  
All were silent for a moment.  
“Well,” Gibbs sighed. “Didn’t we all decide last night that we were doin’ this? No sense in backing out now- let’s get to it!”  
No one had anything more than what was on their backs, so it became a simple matter of waiting for Tia Dalma to fill a bag with this and that odd trinkets. Barbossa had enough money for all of them; no one asked how. All nine of them piled into one rowboat, and they came near the port just after midday.  
The ship was easy enough to find. She was a big Spanish galleon, and the Captain spoke enough English to understand that they’d be keeping to themselves, didn’t want to be bothered, but wouldn’t cause trouble. Tia Dalma explained that the name of the ship roughly translated to “The Haughty Bride”, which made Will snicker to himself. By sun down, they’d bedded down in a set of passenger’s quarters below deck. Ten rooms, one for each of them and a spare. No more doubling up. Righetti silently bemoaned this. Then the Haughty Bride set sail, and that’s where the real fun begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly? Filler. I know, and I'm sorry. I've got the voyage sketched out, but it might end up not being posted until the end of summer. But I've got big plans! Barbossa will teach Elizabeth how to fight dirty, Elizabeth will teach Righetti to read, Righetti might teach Pintel how to love, and at some point those two are going to convince Will to pierce his ears.


End file.
